You are the sea, and I am the light.
I want to dive into you.
I want to illuminate every inch
of your depth,
of your calm,
of your mystery,
but you won't let me in.

(A name is a prayer)

You are the sun, and I am the moon,
My existence is not in your awareness,
Yet your beam is the reason I shine.
You end where I begin,
I end where you begin.

*(A constellation is a sign)

I hope my bird crashes,
And turn me into nothing—
nothing, but dust and ashes.
And force me out of my senses.
And rob me out of my existence.

I'm lost forever
to the sea;
to the waves;
to the salt;
to the blue.

Take me in,
*I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours.

I remember that night,
we were laying on our backs,
next to each other
on my flowery bed.

I could barely feel my heart,
for it was racing so fast,
yet its beatings was still drowned,
by the quiver of yours.

I could feel the moon shining,
bathing us in its glow,
for it was the only light,
that filled the whole room.

Your fingers stroked my hair,
moving delicately through each strain,
until you brought your nose
closer to mine.

So I shut my mind,
and tried not to smile
as I closed my eyes,
And jumped into your lust.

And I remember that night,
we were sitting face to face,
trying to talk about
how things fall apart.

I could feel my lips trembling,
and my eyes burning,
when no one set them on fire,
except for my tears.

I could feel the scent of your lust,
unwrapping itself,
against my body,
now that you found love.

So I shut my mind,
and tried not to cry
as I closed my eyes,
And ran.

What if you secretly planted seeds

all around our souls,

that would grow into a habit

all three of us shared?

We’re the people

whose time runs the fastest

yet, we’re the people

who have the least of time.

Claiming we're gods,
creating heaven,
when we're nothing but men,
destroying earth,
creating hell.

If you find a way to feed it,
help it grow,
and keep it alive;
it will find a way to feed you,
help you grow,
and keep you alive.

I'm constantly at war with myself,
and it's always a matter of life and death.

Chances are, you're going to meet a birdman,
at least once, in your lifetime.
And when you do, you shall be captivated.

He will have a certain appeal,
a magnetic force so enchanting,
that you'll want to keep him, and make him yours.

You'll be tempted to spend fortunes,
to build a pretty little cage,
made out of gold and tears.

But be fooled not!
For he is nothing but a birdman,
whose nature is to roam and be free.

And at the end of the day, I find myself asking,
Why do we always want to possess,
when we see such thing of beauty, roaming 'round so free?

Is it the beauty we desire?
Or is it the freedom?

I would get lost
On a strange island,
Rather than be found,
Between walls I know.

I’d rather speak
Another language,
Than let native words
Form my last sentence.

I’d rather die
On a foreign soil,
Than spend all my life
Knowing only mine.